


Hunter & Hunted

by Thurinsen



Category: Cultist Simulator (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-24 15:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thurinsen/pseuds/Thurinsen
Summary: After a peculiar hearing in the bowels of the Suppression Bureau, Inspector Zachary Wakefield found himself glimpsing the light from a higher place. Will he follow this light into the House Without Walls, or will he resent the yearning?





	1. The Hearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a power that commemorates and grieves, from whom nothing is taken, but who cannot be deceived. You might expect to be able to crush him in your hand, into bird-bone fragments.

This dialogue was recorded during the questioning of Michael Sarrich by Inspector Zachary **Wakefield** in Room 2.05 in the Suppression Bureau, London. The **subject**, Michael Sarrich is a tall, but skinny man with greying hair and deep eyes. He wears spectacles and is clean-shaven. His eyes are dull in colour, but sharp in contrast. Witness to the questioning were Connie **Lee** (private investigator) and Timothy **Burges** (archivist). Beginning of hearing was 12:03.

**Wakefield**: So, here we are. Let’s get the formalities out of the way. I am Detective Zachary Wakefield. I will be asking you some questions. First of all, are you Michael Sarrich?

The **subject** nods.

**Wakefield**: Very well. Do you know why you are here?

The **subject** shakes his head.

**Wakefield**: I see. Do you want to know how we found out?

The **subject** nods.

**Wakefield**: The last time you entered the graveyard, a witness saw you dig up the wooden chest. She followed you and heard the words coming from your window. Is there something you can to tell us about this?

The **subject** shakes his head.

**Wakefield**: Is there something you want to tell us about this?

The **subject** nods.

**Wakefield**: Why can you not tell us, then?

The **subject** points at his mouth.

**Wakefield**: Can you not talk?

The **subject** nods.

**Lee**: This will make things difficult.

**Wakefield**: Miss Lee, you have been invited as witness, not to provide commentary.

**Wakefield**: Can you write your answers down?

The **subject** nods.

**Wakefield**: Miss Lee, would it be possible to fetch some paper for Mister Sarrich? A pen as well, maybe.

Connie **Lee** leaves the room at 12:09. She returns at 12:11.

**Wakefield**: Perfect. Here you go. Now, could you please tell us why you can’t talk.

The **subject** writes on the page: The Sun Took My Voice, So that I May Not Speak Of The Tale The Dove Has Begun.

**Wakefield**: May I know who or what is the Sun, and the Dove?

The **subject** continues writing: The Sun Is The Light That Consumes All Endings, And The Dove Is The Voice That Will Not Forget What Has Been Forgotten.

**Wakefield**: What is this tale, the Dove wishes to tell?

Connie **Lee** coughs. The **subject** started writing on his page.

**Wakefield**: Can I get you a glass of water, Miss Lee?

**Lee**: No thank you. Are you sure this part is essential to your investigation?

**Wakefield**: I believe so, yes. I need to know the motive behind it all, if I ever want to shed light on the matter.

The subject has written: When The Romans Came, They Dug For Silver, But At One Place They Found Something Older, Where Even The Celtic Druids Knew Of Gods Older Than Them. A Memory Still Lingers There, And The Dove Sought It Out And Told Its Tale Through Me, And The Sun Punished Me For Remembering The Thing That Should Have Been Forgotten.

**Wakefield**: Okay, but who is the Sun? Is it another one in your ranks? A rival maybe?

The **subject** shakes his head.

**Wakefield**: And the Dove, is that your leader?

The **subject** nods.

**Wakefield**: That is worrisome. Miss Lee, would you mind a short word?

Connie **Lee** and Zachary **Wakefield** leave the room at 12:21.


	2. A Personal Dialogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following passages have been reconstructed by Enid Sandrigen, after delving into the memories and dreams of Connie Lee.

“What is it?” Connie Lee’s voice was pointed and inquisitive. Zachary Wakefield had pulled her aside into a small office. He leaned on the desk, fiddling with something in his pocket.

“This Dove he was speaking off makes me uncomfortable. I thought we had their leader with him. I don’t like the idea of another conjurer walking around in London. You know more about this, have you ever heard or seen of him?” He watched Connie closely as she sat on a chair.

“No, not directly.” She avoided making eye contact. “I don’t think it is like you imagine. If I am not mistaken, the Dove must be their patron, one of their gods. I think they call them the hours or something to that effect.” She looked up to Zachary, then stood up from her chair and walked through the room to the small window.

“When I shadowed the astronomer, he went into this bookshop in Farlane Street. I went there the next day and this old lady worked at the counter. She greeted me as a new guest, but I declined, I wasn’t here to stay, I actually wanted to have a look at the books. She said nobody stays here and showed me some shelves. Tidy rows of books, but all of them mundane and boring. Old Literature, German and French, I think. The only thing noteworthy was a small volume titled ‘De Horis’ that I saw on her desk. I haven’t paid much attention to it then, but now it seems obvious.”

“That would have been Misses Morland then, correct?” Zachary had taken a piece of paper and made notes. “Did you go there again? Do we know if she is crucial to their network? A supplier maybe?”

“Morland was her name, yes. I tried to go there again”

“But?” interrupted Zachary.

“But I couldn’t find the shop again. The address housed a perfectly normal apartment, no shop, no books.” She crossed her arms. “I wrote that in my report. I deduce you haven’t read it yet?” The last comment was snarky, but not surprised.

“This is not the only case I am working on right now. I don’t have unlimited time. What address was it exactly where you found the shop?”

“26 Farlane Street. On the right side. Do you plan on going there?” Connie turned around, facing Zachary again.

“Maybe. There have been unexpected parallels between my cases lately, and I think there is something bigger behind this all. There must be some organization distributing books here, and this Miss Morland is my closest lead in some time.” He stood up from the desk, looking at Connie. “Shall we return to Mister Sarrich?”


	3. Farlane Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the memories of Zachary Wakefield, regarding his first visit of Morland's.

It had begun to rain when I had left the Bureau. I had forgotten my coat at home, so by the time I arrived at Farlane Street, I was soaking wet. But nonetheless, here I was, in front of a small door with a little sign: ‘M. Morland. Books.’ I opened the door and entered the small room. There wasn’t a lot of furniture, only a desk and some shelves. I saw that these shelves were filled with the trivial books Miss Lee had told me of. Behind the desk stood a woman, at least a head smaller than me. She smiled, and I could see that she had perfect teeth. Her entire appearance was clean, clinically so. She greeted me, saying she knew who I was, so that I wouldn’t have to say my name. I was mildly confused by this, since I don not remember having met her before. I wasn’t surprised however; I have worked long enough at the Bureau for that.

Miss Lee said that Misses Morland had taken her to these trivial shelves, and I expected to be treated similarly. This was not the case however, she gestured me to follow her behind her desk into another room. I could see the shelves of old books, scrolls and other curios. “I normally don’t show your lot this, but you are different. You got the eyes.” She went to one of the shelves and handed me a book, ‘The Locksmith’s Dream: A Light through the Keyhole’. It was a small, beautiful book, in yellow linen. I recognized the name, Teresa Galmier. She was an active occultist when I started my service at Scotland Yard. My then mentor Superintendent William Springer worked on her case. I don’t remember what came from it, only that Springer quit shortly after.

Misses Morland looked at me now, very sharply. She didn’t wear glasses, and one look at her eyes made that clear. Mister Sarrich’s eyes were sharp, but dull in colour, but her eyes were so stark and distinct, it nearly made me nauseous. I asked her what she had meant with “my lot”, but she dismissed my question. I insisted on an answer and she gave it to me. “The Bureau. You send people here on the regular, but you never find anything, then I got peace for some months, and then someone shows up again.” I asked why, if she knew that I worked for the Bureau, she gave me the book. She laughed, a ghastly, hollow laugh. “You won’t turn me in. You have the eyes.”

I hushed home, through the pouring rain, convinced I would send some officers there right tomorrow. In my hands I had proof of her dealing with the occult. I saw the room full of books and books. I wondered why only now this lead turned up, and then so successful. I returned home and changed my clothes. I turned on the lights and sat down. After a quick meal I went to bed, I was sure tomorrow would be the great day I would uproot this occult organization by stifling their resources.

Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep that night. I turned around in my bed, I tried everything, but I couldn’t find rest. Desperate I turned on the bed lamp and reached for a book on my nightstand. I did not put it there, but my hands found Teresa Galmier’s tome. In the end, my curiosity got the better of me. I opened the book and started reading.

When I went to sleep, I was sure I wouldn’t turn in Misses Morland. She had more to tell me.


	4. A Light through the Keyhole

The rain from yesterday evening hadn’t stopped when I woke up. The way to the Bureau was wet, but I had my umbrella, so that when I arrived, I wasn’t completely soaked. I greeted the secretary and she handed me a bundle of letters and telegrams. Nothing special, just the usual correspondences. I had scheduled the next hearing with Mister Sarrich at 10:00, so I prepared my notes. There wasn’t a lot to get from him, since he couldn’t talk, but he seemed to be telling the truth.

The hearing went differently today. Sergeant Burges has called in sick, and Connie Lee had already told me yesterday she wouldn’t have time today. While waiting on the replacement archivist from the other side of the city I looked at Mister Sarrich through the window. I decided to enter.

I had met Morland, I told him. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at the desk, searching for something. I gave him the paper. He started writing again, every single word capitalized and elegant. This took time, of course, but I didn’t want to hurry him, since he seemed to cooperate so well. What Did You Read? I answered I had read Galmier, and he relaxed. So She Saw It In You? I nodded. So What Are You Going To Do Now? The question startled me. I hadn’t really thought about it yet, but now it seemed so pressing. By purchasing and reading the book I had technically committed a crime. A crime I would probably be tasked with investigating.

I couldn’t go back now. I have read the book, about the dream. The light from above. Let Me Tell You Something About The Light. His eyes locked with mine. I couldn’t turn away. The Greatest Secrets Are Those That Cannot Be Spoken By Voice. These secrets Are Cold And Unforgiving, But Never Cruel. The Light Knows No Mercy, But The Silence Is Mercy. The Dove Knows All Secrets Worth Knowing, But The Sun Wishes To Forget. Bleach The Sheets, Paint The Room White. Let No Colour Distract You. Then You Can Enter The House Without Walls.

I didn’t know what those words meant, but they resonated with me. I leaned back, deep in thoughts of Houses, the Light, and Dreams. These thoughts abruptly ended when the archivist for the day arrived. She was young, with blonde hair and pale skin. I don’t remember her eyes, and that is probably better so. She smiled at me, I greeted her and explained the situation. “Don’t worry, Inspector, I have been filled in with the details already.” I noticed too late that her mouth didn’t move. Then everything went bright.

I was cold when I woke up. The door and windows stood open, slowly swinging in the cold air. Mr. Sarrich and the young archivist were nowhere to be seen. My head hurt, presumably I hit the floor. There was a single note on the table. Good Bye Inspector. I Wish You The Best. Maybe We Will See Us Again, In The House Without Walls, Where The Light Leaks From A Higher Place. Another sudden wave of chill overcame me, as I saw a single snake crawl away through one of the open windows.

“Inspector Zachary, Sir?” Another officer had entered the desolated room, blocking the light from the hall. He wore the typical outfit of an officer from Scotland Yard, the helmet, the jacket. In his hands he had a typewriter. I could barely make out his badge. Detective D. McDowis. It suddenly dawned on me that this must be the actual archivist that had been sent to me. I slumped to the floor. They escaped, I told him, They aren’t here anymore. He placed the typewriter on the table and inspected the door and windows. “They? I thought only Mister Sarrich should have been here?” His helper, I told him, had come and distracted me, some sort of flash. Then they were away.


	5. The House Without Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of the journey of our life, I found myself in a dark wood without paths. It is difficult to express how wild, harsh and impenetrable that wood was...

After leaving work I bought bleach and white paint, in a shady store on the other side of the river. When I returned to my flat, I immediately started working. Bleach the bedsheets, paint the room white. It wasn’t the cleanest paintjob I’ve seen, but I could feel that it would be enough, at least for now. I lay down on the white bed and closed my eyes. When I started seeing again, I was surprised. I recognized the dreamscape from previous nightmares. I always thought of the forest in this dream as the forest my grandfather would occasionally show me. I got lost there once, and when I found my way out my grandfather just laughed at me.

This time was different, however. There was a silent intensity in the branches, as they once again lashed out against me and as the rootwork tried to grapple me. I would not stray from the path. Then the endless trees cleared, and I came upon a clearing. I felt watched and looked for someone, something, but I was alone, completely and utterly alone. The cold light, coming from some higher place, that wasn’t quite like the sun, illuminated the trees in a strange light, casting shadows that would not stop moving. Behind that silent things moved, and the moss crept up to the trees, where it would form strange signs and letters.

I followed the way, closer to the light and again into the forested expanse. The branches would not hit me here, and the way was unobscured. I came onto a high, jagged rock, atop which stood a foundation, that housed a temple. It was no Greek temple or roman. It was older than anything else I had seen. I could feel the desolation the formation was exuding, and the moss and lichen were slowly destroying it. At its peak, where the rock thrums from some unseen power within, stood someone. As I approached, they looked towards me, and I felt some kind of familiarity. Features I knew, but could not recognize now.

Eye-signs dominate the peak, where the lichen has been destroyed for these symbols, carved and scratched, not into the stone itself, but its overgrowth. We, my familiar and I stood atop and looked at one of the signs. We did not speak. We did not need to.


	6. An Evening at the Cabaret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Statement given to the Suppression Bureau by Connie Lee, regarding her investigation into the occult dealings of Dorothy Marlone.

I have been shadowing the suspected occultist Dorothy Marlone since May 5th, 1929. She has regularly exhibited strange behaviours and has visited 26 Farlane Street. On the evening of May 21st, I followed her in disguise into a cabaret, that has previously come up in my research, the Ecdysis Club. It is run by Sulochana Amavasya, also suspected occultist (see Case 712). I never saw it open, so I used the opportunity to gather more evidence against Ms. Marlone and Ms. Amavasya. The entryway is only obscured by a curtain, above which the words “IN GI RUM IMUS NOC TE ET CON SUMI MUR IGNI” were engraved. I payed the entry fee (see expenses report 14) and entered the hallway leading up to the stage.

The stage room was only dimly lit, and I was seated at a table near the stage. I could see Ms. Marlone three tables to my right, talking with an unknown person. I have included a drawing (Addendum 1). Another person sat down next to me, shortly before the show began. He looked Greek, with clear features, a short, trimmed black beard. His hair was bound back, and his voice was unexpectedly high for his looks. He introduced himself as ‘Mr. Agdistis’, and that he would be my table-partner this evening. He made some advances towards me, all of which I firmly declined.

The show began with dancers in scarfs, slowly dancing across the stage. They took of their scarfs one at a time. Their movements had something hypnotic to them. During the dance I closely watched Ms. Marlone. She followed every move, apparently taking notes. Her view seemed to be mainly focused on a female dancer in the centre. She had no scarfs, instead wore heavy tunics, which she slowly shed and tore. I suspect some sort of ritualistic meaning behind this behaviour.

After the show has ended Mr. Agdistis approached me again. He must have vanished during the show, since returned from the back of the room to the table. He asked whether I would return to the club when it would open next. I asked when that would be, and he answered I would know when to come. I accepted his invitation. Expect further in-depth reports about the dealings in the club from me. I don’t know when they will come.

End of Statement.


	7. Familiarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the diary of Spencer Hobson

I have dreamt of the wood ever since that snake bit me and I landed in the hospital. A snake. In London. I don’t know how it came here, but when I felt its tiny teeth in my ankle, that didn’t matter anymore. I rushed to the hospital, were my bed was next to some old man, rambling about light and houses and other nonsense. But since I didn’t have anything better to do with my time, I listened. It was rather peculiar. He gave vivid descriptions of magnificent vistas, which in and of itself was not that unusual, were it not for the fact that he was blind. When the nurse told me of his failing eyesight, I was shocked. I asked since when, and when she answered “For 14 years now” I was baffled. The views he so accurately and vividly described all came from after the war. I expected that he must have been told these descriptions, and just recites them during his fevers.

I met my neighbour in my dreams for the first time after 5 days at the hospital. He too was walking the paths of the woods and we found each other at the old well in one of the clearings. I recognized him immediately. So did he, much to my amazement. He told me of the Mansus, the House Without Walls, and that we are currently in the Wood, the outer bounds of the Mansus. I woke up in a cold sweat and heard him laughing in the bed beside me. Needless to say, I was relieved to go home again the next day. I have not stopped dreaming, however. I quickly made the connections. The Mansus seems to be the dreamworld many of my investigations hint about. I have always been interested in tales about this place, and seeing it for myself now, I have to say, that it is as glorious and magnificent as many say. I yearn for it to open to me and to reveal its secrets to me. But I must be careful, since this means that I have committed one of the crimes I was tasked investigating for the Bureau. This gives me some sort of security, but one wrong step and everything could be over. Still, I cannot ignore what I have seen. I return every night.

I can not believe what I saw this night. My hand still shakes, as I write these lines. I went to the Temple this night, and I saw, at least I think he was it, Zachary Wakefield. I don’t know what to make of this revelation. Is he also a seeker? Or is he spying for the Bureau? I dare not return. I just hope he didn’t notice me. Please, by all the gods and powers in this and other worlds, I hope he didn’t notice me.


End file.
